


The Holy Lamb

by Oxytreza



Series: The Sheriff and The Detective (A Saloonatics Extension) [2]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage performances, Dom Thompson, Dom/sub, Experienced Dom, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Praise Kink, Rated Explicit for future chapters, Shibari, Sub Edward Gold, bdsm club, experienced sub, modern day AU, stage performance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oxytreza/pseuds/Oxytreza
Summary: The Holy Lamb could, to the quick glance of the untrained eye, pass as some independent church organisation.The place is nestled between two office buildings, the front is sleek, painted in black with the lettering in thin white cursive letters. The heavy black double doors are ornate with rounded windows that peek into a simple lobby when the curtains aren’t drawn. Tucked deep into some corner of Camden town, London, the place seems inconspicuous enough that it doesn’t catch the eye, despite it’s rather odd name.It is not, in fact, some place of religious gathering.It is an all inclusive, top of the shelf, luxurious BDSM club.It is also Ridgemont Thompson’s favorite BDSM club, the only one he visits enough that he’s known on a name basis by the staff and the other patrons.
Relationships: Edd/Tom (Eddsworld), Edward Gold/Sheriff Thompson
Series: The Sheriff and The Detective (A Saloonatics Extension) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010259
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	The Holy Lamb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArigonAll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArigonAll/gifts).



> The Holy Lamb Official Playlist: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKUxNmQygqJ7cRIZqjeZIcAfLNvIgQwAo 
> 
> WHERE TO BEGIN??
> 
> Well, probably at how Saloonatics from Eddsworld lives rent free in my mind and I love Edward and Thompson so much they really got out of hand. So while I still have a sort of on going series set in the victorian era post canon eddisode, the idea of them meeting in a modern day setting wouldn't leave me alone. Add one of my favorite subject (BDSM) in the mix, and voilà! The Holy Lamb was born. 
> 
> The story is mostly outlined from beginning to end, but I don't have a clear idea of the chapters yet. I might be a rather long fic though. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy as much as I did writing it. 
> 
> Special thanks to Juhbritto who proof read it for me, and a special mention to Arigonall who love this story so much that for their birthday, I included little sketches of the some scenes in the body of the chapter. 
> 
> A couple notes: Ridgemont is my headcanon first name for Thompson.  
> Also, I'd like to mention that to me Edward and Thompson are different people from Edd and Tom, and thus I don't portray them quite the same
> 
> Onto the story now!

The Holy Lamb could, to the quick glance of the untrained eye, pass as some independent church organisation. 

The place is nestled between two office buildings, the front is sleek, painted in black with the lettering in thin white cursive letters. The heavy black double doors are ornate with rounded windows that peek into a simple lobby when the curtains aren’t drawn. Tucked deep into some corner of Camden town, London, the place seems inconspicuous enough that it doesn’t catch the eye, despite it’s rather odd name. 

It is not, in fact, some place of religious gathering. 

It is an all inclusive, top of the shelf, luxurious BDSM club. 

It is also Ridgemont Thompson’s favorite BDSM club, the only one he visits enough that he’s known on a name basis by the staff and the other patrons.

***

Thompson entered the reception area, situated beyond the lobby where he left his coat and jacket at the cloakroom, rolling his shirt sleeves past his elbows. He’s fresh off work, still dressed in his dark slack and black tie, and the day load was enough of a hellish shitstorm that he got out tense and gritting his teeth, desperate to unwind with a few drinks and maybe a cute partner to play with in one of the club’s backrooms. 

Behind the reception desk, the owner of the club, a tall woman named Esmée with red hair and cat-eyed glasses, grins when she spots him. 

“Well hello there, Sheriff,” she jokes, Thompson’s nickname well known around the block. “It’s been a while, what brings you here today ?”

Thompson sighs, leaning on his elbows on the reception bar. 

“A shitty day, I guess.” He grumbles, rubbing his forehead. She nods while pulling a box from under the counter, opening it to an array of colorful silicone wristbands. She doesn’t need to consult with him as she plucks a bisexual flag colored one and a color coded deep purple for doms, dommes, masters and dominants, giving them to the man before ruffling inside the box some more. 

“Here to play, then ?” She asks, not really waiting for the answering nod as she gives him a green band. “And still single, I presume ?” 

He nods again, and she shakes her head, pulling a white band from the box before clicking it closed. She watches him rolling the four bracelets on his wrist, sighing.

“I don’t understand. If someone like you can’t find someone to stick with, what hope is there for the rest of the world ?”

He eyes her with a smirk, plucking at the silicone so it rests on his skin without pulling at his arm hairs. 

“Last time I checked, you weren’t faring too bad yourself. How’s your latest conquest ? That icy blond that looks like she could kill with her glare ?”

Esmée grins, and it looks sharp in the low light of the reception. 

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about me, I know I’m top tier. I was talking about the rest of the commoners out there.”

He snorts, untightening the knot of his tie enough to pop open the top button of his shirt. Her wolf whistle follows him past the heavy black curtains that separates the reception area from the main room. He replies with a simple salute of two of his fingers.

Immediately, he’s greeted with music, loud enough to give privacy to people’s discussions, but not enough that you’d need to scream to be heard. He stands on the platform overseeing the room a moment, looking at the people already there. Given how late Thompson got off work it’s already well into the evening, so the club is decently filled despite it being the middle of the week. Some of them are in full gear, some other in similar states as Thompson: civil clothes, work uniforms. He leans on the balcony, chin on his fist as he stays here for a while, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. As much as he likes a good play to unwind, entering a scene in a frustrated mindset is never a good idea, for all parties involved.

Once he feels more level headed and not on the brink of murdering someone, he climbs down one of the two flight stairs flanking the balcony going down into the den. The club is an old wine cave, with arched white stone ceiling and black brick pillars. All the furniture are in shades of black and red with touches of gold, and living up to the name of the club, the religious imagery is dispersed around the rooms under either the form of bright neons or antiques repainted to match the aesthetic of the place.

The club is also big, extending in a network of underground rooms and play spaces deep under the streets of Camden. Right now, Thompson settles at the bar in the main room, the first one you come across as you enter. Todd, the bartender, turns to him with a smirk. 

“Fancy seeing you here, Sheriff. What will it be tonight ?” he leans forward, putting his weight on his hands between his spread arms, a bartender equivalent of manspreading. Grey eyes are surveying Thompson closely, and he shrugs as he takes a spot on a stool. 

“The usual, thanks. Not too strong. I’m already tired.” At that, Todd raises a brow, turning toward the rows of bottles behind him. 

“Long day ?” He asks, pouring the whiskey in a glass and pushing it toward Thompson, who only nods in response. 

“Well,” Todd adds with a wink. “Hopefully you find someone to relax nice and good tonight.”

Thompson snorts in his glass. “That’s an offer, ain’t it ?”

“Only if you plan to take it.” jokes Todd, shrugging with only one shoulder as he puts some snacks in front of the other man. Their flirty banter is familiar, and Thompson cracks a smile. Todd is a brat, the most chaotic kind of sub, clawing and biting, baring his teeth at his master in hopes to get pushed back into submission. Thompson doesn’t fare too well with them, and while Todd is also a switch, Thompson doesn’t sub either. They both know that their easy friendship will never lead them to a playroom. Still, Todd is flirty by nature, and Thompson doesn’t mind. 

“Anyone I know here tonight ?” Thompson inquires, looking around. When he’s like this, he likes to play with familiar faces, people he doesn’t have to explain his rules and limits. As much as breaking in new subs is delightful, sometimes you just need the good old routine. Todd squints at the ceiling, seemingly deep in thought.

“I think Violette and Julian are here, they’re in the Saint Andrew room, I think ?” he notes, looking back down as he wipes a couple glasses down with his black apron.

Thompson hums. Violette and Julian are a couple of other regulars, who like to invite other people to play with them whenever they feel like it. They’re very sweet, but Violette is a draconian dominant who loves to butt heads with other doms over her husband. It’s all in good fun, but Thompson’s in no mood for play fight. Again, he’s not in the best of mindset, and he’d rather relax with a nice darling sub who’ll let him tie them up, fuck their face and maybe spank them a little, if they feel like it. 

Thompson’s playing with the bowl of condoms on the counter, deep in thoughts, when Todd’s voice rings once more. 

“There’s also a bondage show a little later, if you wanna participate.” he says, looking over his shoulder while mixing some colorful cocktail for a very pretty woman in a red latex dress who’s standing not far from Thompson. He huffs.

“Not really, no.” He’s not keen on too much attention tonight. Todd pours the drink in a glass, pouting. 

“Awh, but there’s some new faces here tonight! They’d be thrilled to see your set of skills!” He pleads, making puppy eyes at the sandy blonde man. “Please ?” 

As Todd serves her drink, the woman in latex tilts her head toward Thompson, her eyes inquisitive. 

“You do bondage shows here ? I come pretty often but I don’t think I ever saw you.” she sips her drink, eyeing him with a little smile. He smiles back, a tiny quirk up of the corner of his lips.

“I’m usually more of a week-end person, my weeks have horrible schedules. Today’s an exception.” he explains, raising the glass to his lips.

She nods, humming. She’s really gorgeous, with dark curly hair bouncing down her back, but the whole left side of her head is shaved.

“Explains a lot, I’m not in town on week-ends. You’re a teacher here ? For the bondage club ?”

He shakes his head no, taking a drink from his glass and quickly eyeing her wrist. Damn, purple. Also black band, which means in a relationship unwilling to play with strangers. 

“Not really, I just guess the lady of the house likes having me on stage for the shows, that’s all.” he tries to side-step, but no such luck. Todd clicks his tongue, flicking Thompson in the arm. 

“Don’t bullshit her, Sheriff.” Todd turns to her, crossing his arms and jerking his chin toward the grumbling blonde, currently rubbing the spot he just hit. 

“Thompson’s _really_ good. Like, seriously good. He doesn’t tie people up, he makes art. He doesn’t want to become a teacher here cause his work hours are erratic but he gives demonstrations and shows when he can. Or when he wants, I guess.” he huffs, glaring at the man who just stares back, unimpressed.

“Wait,” the woman suddenly straightens, and Thompson groans while Todd cackles. “Thompson, like, _the_ Thompson of the Holy Lamb ? Holy shit, I keep hearing about you and we can never be here when you give shows! I hear you’re indeed amazing. You sure you don’t wanna climb on stage tonight ?” She says, tilting her head in a polite plea, hands joined. Thompson fidgets with his glass, giving her a soft apologetic smile. 

“I dunno, miss. Don’t feel very up for the task tonight. But promise I’ll try coming back another time in the middle of the week so we can cross paths again. How does that sound ?”

She nods with enthusiasm, understanding.

“Of course, no pressure! Sorry if I was insensitive, it was rude of me. That’d be really sweet of you, but don’t force yourself.” She grins and this time his answering smile is warmer.

“No worries, lady. Enjoy your evening.” She tips her glass toward him, before pushing from the bar, leaving him alone once more with Todd, who sighs dramatically. 

“You’re a tragedy. Keeping your art to yourself— ”

“Yeah, yeah,” Thompson cuts him, climbing down from his stool with a roll of his eyes, “I get it, I’m a monster. I’ll be over there in the Saint Matthew room if anyone needs me.”

***

The Saint Matthew room is currently occupied by a cute couple engaging in impact play, to the delight of a couple of people grouping around them. 

Thompson joins the audience, leaning against the wall as he sips his drink. He looks at the couple for a good while, appreciating the Dom’s gentle praises, the resounding smacks of the paddle, and the Sub’s little whines. 

His drink is empty by the time Todd seems to materialize next to him, grinning. 

“It’s my break, and the bondage show is about to begin at the lounge bar. Wanna grab a drink with me and go watch it ?”

Thompson snorts, looking at him sideway. “Are you going to make me go on stage ?”

Todd raises his hands placatingly, sighing dramatically and shaking his head. 

“Despite my best judgement, no, I’ll leave you alone. Just wanna have some company.”

Thompson follows him to the lounge area, where Todd immediately secures a table close to the stage. 

“Great, ‘cause I plan to find someone for later tonight, not going to spoil my appetite.” Thompson states, sitting down on one of the chairs.

“Oh oh ?” Todd smirks, wriggling his brows. “Can I come watch ?”

“No, you heathen, you stay at your bar.” Thompson grumbles, though it’s in good spirit. Todd pouts. 

“Unfair.” he mumbles, and it’s Thompson’s turn to smirk.

As Todd goes to refill his companion’s glass and get a drink for himself, Thompson sits more comfortably, looking around himself and nodding at a couple familiar faces who greet him back. 

The lounge area, situated a bit deeper into the club, is decorated in similar shades of black and red, with touches of gold and white. There’s a long sleek bar, some booths adorned with plush red seats along the walls, and an array of tables in the middle, facing a low wooden stage, framed by red blood curtains. There’s a white neon cross on the wall right above it, because Esmée is like that, and Thompson can appreciate it, honestly. 

Patrons begin to fill the tables and the booths as Todd comes back, sitting next to Thompson, drinks in hands. He gives to his friend his glass while looking around him in the same fashion Thompson did himself the minute before. 

“It’s a busy evening,” he notes, stirring his martini as Thompsons hums in his own whiskey. 

It’s not long before Esmée walks onto the stage, her Louboutin heels an impressive size, giving her several additional inches she really didn’t need in the first place. The woman is huge, looming above anyone else. There’s clapping, and she does a neat little bow, before clasping her hands together. 

“Well, so many familiar faces tonight, and some new ones! Welcome. If you didn’t know yet, I’m Esmée, and I’m the one owning and running the Holy Lamb. If you ever need anything, come find me, or any of my staff if I’m not there, and we’ll do our best to answer your various needs. Now, for the new little ones with us tonight, let me explain a bit what’s about to happen. While we do have bondage teaching sessions for those interested, this is just a show for the pleasure of the eyes. We ask for one or two willing participants, preferably who did bondage before, and we just have a little fun, a little eye candy. How does that sound ?”

Cheers raise around the room and Esmée nods appreciatively. 

“Now,” she grins, and how does this woman manage to look so intimidating whatever she does, even when she’s friendly, Thompson doesn’t know, but he respects that. “Do we have volunteers for our little show tonight ?”

Some hands raise, but one, impossible to miss, literally shoots up, making a couple people laugh. Esmée snorts, motioning to the person, who’s sitting a few tables ahead of Thompson and Todd, to stand up and come closer. 

“Alright, I see we have a very impatient one over there. Come here, love, don’t be shy after that rocket arm you gave us.” she says, making more people laugh.

The man who stands up is tall, dressed in jeans and a casual green shirt, rolled at the sleeves. No tie, sneakers, this guy either didn’t come right after work like Thompson did or worked in a pretty relaxed environment. From his vantage point, Thompson can only see the mop of dark brown hair on the top of his head and the undercut at the back of it. He turns his head slightly, greening sheepishly at the people who are clapping and cheers around him. 

He’s cute, Thompson thinks. 

As the guy approaches the stage, Esmée’s face lights up. “Oh, you’re one of the newcomers aren’t you! Yes, yes, I remember, you told me it was your first time here. That’s great, come up, come up, don’t be shy.” She smirks again, canines showing, and the guy chuckles, climbing on the stage before turning to face the public. 

To be honest, Thompson likes to think he has a good poker face. It’s essential in his line of work, and he had more than a good handful of occasions to practice it. Nevertheless, he’s unable to control the very small but very sharp breath he takes through his nose when the man on stage faces him and the rest of the audience, making Todd shoot a glance at him sideways. 

Scratch cute, the guy is _gorgeous_. A nice, soft oval face with gentle eyes, a cute round nose, nice mouth. Even from there, Thompson can’t tell his eyes are alight with intelligence, and the smile he’s sporting might be bashful around the edges, but he’s confident. He’s new at the club but not new in the scene. It’s a bit far to really check in detail the colors of the bands on his wrist, but even from his vantage point, Thompson can spot the color coded bright pink for subs. 

_Nice_. 

And goddamn, the guy is built like an hourglass, with a narrow waist above wide hips and thick thighs. His shoulders are broad, his chest nicely shaped. He’s clearly athletic, and Thompson finds his gaze lingering on the elegant line of the man’s body. There’s something aristocratic about him, he’s a wet dream wrapped in a green shirt, and Thompson feels something stirs in the pit of his stomach. 

He’s brought back to the present by a nudge from a snickering Todd, his low taunt of _take a picture, it'll last longer_ barely covered by Esmée’s voice.

“Alright, pray tell us your name, sweetheart ?” she asks, her hands still joined together as she appraises the guy up and down.

“Edward.” replies the man, smiling, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Welcome and thank you for coming, Edward. I take it you want to be on the receiving end ?” the owner asks, tilting her head and eyeing his pink bracelet, and he flushes a little, but his smile grows. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” he chuckles, along several people in the audience. 

“He’d like that.” Esmée repeats, nodding with a raise of her brows but her lips are stretched in an amiable line. 

“Alright, man, woman, neither, either ? Any particular preferences ?” she asks, turning her gaze onto the public and extending her hand in a wide arc to offer the range of possibilities within. For a brief couple of seconds, she locks eyes with Thompson, and he has to resist the urge to squirm. This woman, Jesus. 

“Either is fine, honestly.” Edward answers easily, still smiling, “But someone with experience would be ” he adds, with a little shrug.

Esmée looks at him once more, up and down, and Thompson knows she’s seizing him to try and determine the best partner she could pick for him. She always had a keen eye for that type of thing. If it turns out she’s the one who will tie the guy up, then he’s in for a treat. Hell, everyone would be in for a treat, audience included. Esmée is a master at the craft, after all. Thompson had the pleasure and, dare he says, honor, to co-play with her in a scene domming a couple subs and it honestly was one of the best nights of his life. 

Onstage, Esmée is tapping her chin in thoughts, before grinning widely. 

“You know what ? I happen to see Thompson is with us tonight.” she purrs, turning once more toward the man she just mentioned. Thompson can’t help but seizes on his chair, and next to him Todd snorts so loud he chokes a little. 

It doesn’t miss though, there’s a murmur dancing along the tables, and the handful of regulars who didn’t see him yet turn their head, waving or nodding at him. He greets back, before frowning at Esmée. Edward is looking at him curiously. 

“Come on Sheriff, care to come give our newbie a taste of what you can do ?” Esmée’s sharp grin widens as several people raise their voices in enthusiasm.

“Woohoo, that promise to be a nice show!” exclaim one guy in a white tank top.

“Yes, come on, Thompson!” cheers a girl with blue hair wearing a cute pastel dress and a choker.

“Oh hell yeah, I haven’t seen Sheriff in action in ages!” another girl states, reclining in his chair, her checkered beanie nearly falling for her head as she does so. At another table, the lady whom Thompson talked with at the bar is sitting with her partner, smiling at him in a way that shows she’s feeling sorry for him but also is a little delighted. 

Thompson clears his throat, and takes advantage of a short silence to raise his voice.

“Sorry, guys, I wasn’t planning on it tonight.” he says, and at the disappointed chorus, he raises his hands. “I’m sorry, everyone!”

“Awh, Sheriff,” Esmée croons. “You can’t deprive our nice guest here from your skills—”

“That’s what I said!” interjects Todd, voice loud, and there’s laughter zipping across the room. Thompson shoots him a look, before shaking his head, crossing his arms. 

“Come on, Thompson, last call.” Esmée speaks from the stage, smiling. Her tone is less teasing and more gentle. “Of course, it’d be lovely if you accepted, but here is not the place where we force people to do things, you know that.” Despite her words, some people are softly chanting his name, separating the syllables in a two beats rhythm chant.

He can’t help but laughs, feeling somewhat flattered. He throws a look at that Edward guy to check on him. 

Edward is looking straight back at him, a little smile playing on his lips, his cheeks pink and his eyes unmistakably darkened in interest. But the slope of his shoulders and his brows tells another story: he’s disappointed at Thompson’s refusal, though he’s trying to hide it. He _wanted_ him to come up and tie him up. 

Thompson takes only one second to think.

Then he’s suddenly getting to his feet under the hollers and the cheering of the crowd. 

He waves placatingly, snorting as he makes his way between the tables. “Alright, alright, calm down, everyone, it’s nothing crazy.”

“Sure isn’t.” Esmée teases, side stepping as he climbs on stage to let him take center. He turns to Edward, and sure enough, the guy is smiling, clearly pleased and eyes half lidded as he extends a well manicured hand to Thompson. 

“Nice to meet you. Edward.” This close, he’s actually a couple inches smaller than Thompson. He can clearly see how Edward is looking at him up and down, his eyes slightly trailing along the scar Thompson sport on his left brow, before quickly coming back down to scan his face.

Thompson shakes the offered hand, nodding once. “Likewise. Thompson.”

“So I’ve gathered,” Edward drawls, and Esmée claps them on the shoulder, grin wide as she glances at them both. 

“Alright, enough foreplay, you two! Thompson, I’m trusting our new guest in your expert hands. Take care of him and give us a nice show, would you ?”

“Will do.” he agrees, turning to the chest at the end of the stage where the ropes are stored. Esmée struts downstage, and goes to sit in a booth tucked farther in a corner of the room. The woman Thompson already noticed in the owner’s company, icy blue eyes and blond hair so fair they look white, is there, and Esmée scoots next to her. 

The lights dim, as usual for these shows, and Thompson opens the chest, pulling some blood red linen rope, coiled around itself in a tight knot. 

He walks back to the front of the stage, where Edward is already stretching his arms above and behind his head, while the public chatters among themselves, patiently waiting for them to get ready. This is what Thompson likes about the place. No grandiose act, no fancy babble, just people appreciating the same thing in the same place at the same moment. Music’s low above their head, the familiar notes of Nina Simone's iconic _Feeling Good_ giving the scene the perfect atmosphere.

Thompson breathes, and steps into his role at the same time he takes the last step in front of the other man.

“So, Edward, right ? I figure you’re experienced as well, given how well you know your core stretches.” He observes, and the brown haired man nods. He’s very pink now. From the exercises or the prospect of being tied up, Thompson doesn’t know. It’s a cute look on him.

“I am indeed, sir.”

Thompson feels the corner of his mouth tugs up. The man’s quick to catch up, and definitively not new in the game. 

“Is linen rope okay with you ?” he asks, uncoiling the rope and letting the length of it fall to the ground as he takes a couple more steps forward, dragging it behind him in a whispering snake. Edward’s gaze darts to it before coming back up to look Thompson’s in the eyes. Up close and in the light, Thompson can see Edward’s eyes are actually hazel, not brown. 

He stops, weight resting on one leg with the rope loosely wrapped in his fist like he would hold a whip, his other hand tucked away in his pocket. He knows what he looks like: a confident, attractive, relaxed dom. Edward’s pupils dilate, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. His posture matches Thompson’s : head bowed, hands joined in his back, stance non threatening, he looks every bit like a good behaved submissive. Thompson loves it already. Loves him already. 

“Yes sir, that’s very alright. Actually, that’s my favorite kind of rope.” He says, voice soft, and Thompson takes the time to study the man before him. 

There’s something between them, he can tell. A trickle of electric current, a sparkling tension. The public feels it too, given the hush that fell upon it. 

Sexual tension, right off the bat. Thompson lets the corner of his mouth tug up. 

“As this is somewhat of a special occasion, I’ll let you choose the type of binding you want, Edward.” Thompson drawls, cocking his head. Edward mirrors the motion, looking up in thoughts. 

“A simple Hishi Karada would be nice, sir ?” he finally says, looking back down. Thompson’s smirk widens. The clever little thing is testing him. He gets his hand out of his pocket to gather the rope, taking his sweet time doing so. He always was of the patient type, after all.

“Very well, with an arm binding twist to spice things up ?” he nonchalantly offers, keeping an eye on the other man. Edward’s eyes darken a tad more, and Thompson’s smirk morphs into a full grin. 

“That actually would be great, sir.” Edward murmurs, batting his eyelashes. What a little tease. Thompson crooks a finger at him, ordering him closer. Edward sweetly obeys, stepping forward, and pliantly lowers his face toward his chest to allow Thompson to loop the middle of the rope on the back of his neck. 

He could make quick work of the harness, but what would be the fun in that, really? Thompson takes his sweet time, mostly silent as he works down Edward's front. He slowly pulls the knots together, careful not to hit Edward in the face with each flick of the end of the rope. He smooths down Edward’s shirt before pulling the rope tight over it, purposeful in every one of his movements. Nothing is left to chance, every movement is calculated. The angle of his elbow, the bow of his arms as they arc to bring the rope up and around the knots, the calm demeanor he wears on his face. That’s what people love about his act, he knows. And Edward is clearly no different, given how his eyes are glued to his hands, following each and every of his motions with captivated interest. 

Thompson lets his knuckles drag against Edward’s frame, feeling the tight muscles under his clothes. Every once in a while, he glances up, checking if Edward’s doing well. Each time those hazel eyes are looking back at him, wide and arousal clear in them, the line of his shoulders relaxed and at ease. He’s doing very okay. His cheeks are red now, his breathing is getting shallower and shallower by the minutes, and his flat stomach jumps minutely with every touch of Thompson’s hands when he curls the rope in a new knot against it. 

He’s lovely, Thompson thinks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning too widely. 

Once the base of the body harness is in place, he taps with the tip of his dress shoe Edward’s converse sneakers without another word. Edward, ever the clever darling, spreads obediently his legs, widening his stance and thus allowing Thompson to pass the rope between his thighs, before going back up behind him, slotting the length of it against the crack of his ass. Edward takes a sharp breath in. Even from over his jeans, his buttocks are clearly well defined, round and cute. A gorgeous ass to spank, honestly. 

“Turn for me, pretty thing.” Thompson drawls, and Edward does so, already joining his hands in his back, gripping his own elbows in each palm. Thompson ties his forearms together, still slow, posed. The knots climb up Edward’s arms, loops around his shoulders, securing him in a straight posture, arms and hands joined at his back. 

Thompson steps back, surveying his handiwork as he nudges Edward to turn around once more. Thompson makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat as he takes in his work. It’s perfect, honestly one of his best rope gigs.

The red streak of linen runs in intricate patterns along Edward’s frame, curls around his torso, his arms, caging his hips and chest in a crimson embrace made of diamond shapes. He’s panting now, mouth open and eyes still never leaving Thompson. The black of his pupils nearly entirely swallowed his irises. 

Thompson circles him, the loose end of the rope still in his hand, acting as a leash. Edward’s makes a soft noise, almost a keen, and he looks so pretty like this, cheeks burning red and eyelids lowered. 

“Is’t he absolutely lovely ?” cooes Thompson, loud enough it’s clear he’s addressing the public. There’s a murmur of appreciation and a couple wolf whistles, and Edward visibly preens. 

“Now, kneel for me, sweetheart.” Thompson purrs, and Edward takes a sharp breath before doing so. He sits pretty, thighs spread, back straight, facing the public. He arches ever so slightly, showing off to the people looking at him, but his face is turned up to the man standing next to him, clearly seeking approval. 

“Good boy.” Thompson purrs again, his voice taking on a whole octave lower, and he can feel the full body shudder Edward rewards him with as much as he can actually see it. The public seems to pick on it as well, a pleased sigh passing through it at the display. Everyone is riveted now, looking at the two men on stage with more than simple interest. 

Thompson slowly extends a hand, giving Edward enough time to pull back if he wishes so, but the brunet only pushes his face into Thompson’s hand, nearly nuzzling into it with a content noise escaping his throat. 

_God_ , he’s wonderful. Thompson really, really wants to keep him.

He cradles the red cheek, brushes his fingers through the dark locks. Edward tilts his head back, closing his eyes and exposing his neck in a nearly indecent manner. Absolutely submitting to Thompson’s gaze, he moans, small and strangled, but Thompson doesn’t miss it. 

“God, what a treat you are.” he murmurs, and Edward lets out a happy sigh. Thompson takes a step back, relishing in the way Edward chases after him, seeking the warmth of his hand, before crouching next to him, balancing on the ball of his feet. 

“I’m going to tie your thighs now, is that okay, kitten ?”

At the pet name, one Thompson’s pretty fond of, something hot and bright flashes across Edward’s features, his eyes widening and jaw slackening, before he catches himself, biting hard into his lower lip. Thompson raises his brows. Interesting.

“That’s very alright, sir. » Edward pants, spreading his thighs even more, and fuck, he’s hard, the line of his cock clearly pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Thompson stares, a trickle of heat pooling low on his groin. Edward catches his eyes, and he smiles sheepishly. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, shifting, “You’re so good at this.” he adds, his speech slightly slurred, and Thompson swallows. It’s not unusual for Subs to get an erection on stage, or get wet enough it’s visible, but there’s something about Edward that makes Thompson more receptive to it than the several times before it happened.

“It’s okay, darling. I don’t mind, and people don’t judge here. I’m flattered, actually.” he chuckles, moving so he can sit back more comfortably on his haunches. Edward hums, closing his eyes as Thompson leans forward, starting to wrap the rope around one of Edward’s thighs, linking it to his ankle and securing the two together. He stands before walking on the other side of the brunet before crouching again, repeating the process. 

“Now.” He says, a little louder, and god, the way the audience is winded tight, arousal sparkling among the table and people drinking in every one of his gestures and words, he can’t deny it, he loves it. “Edward, I’m going to use the end of the rope as a leash, and I expect you to submit nicely when I pull on it, is that clear ?”

“ _Yesss_.” Edward hisses, eyes hazy as Thompson secures the remaining rope around Edward’s neck, checking with two fingers the tightness of it. Feeling how Edward gulps down easily against his knuckles, it’s safe. 

Thompson straightens. He doesn’t stand up, not quite, but he puts one foot on the ground, his other knee still down on the floor next to it. 

“What a gorgeous sight you are, kitten.” He grins, looking down at Edward, who’s staring at him over his shoulder, licking his lips. At the praise, Edward’s mouth falls open around a moan, and he arches, pushing his shoulders back as if trying to press against the bulk of Thompson behind him. 

“Nnnh, fuck, God…” he gasps, and there’s a tremor in the public, a low pleased laugh, an aroused hum. Edward doesn’t stop there, though, looking up to the man above him and whining: “You’re so good to me, sir, please…” 

Fuck. Thompson feels himself twitch in his boxer. Goddamn, he’s getting hard as well. It’s been forever since he had an erection on stage while making a show, not since his early years in the scene. He prides himself in his self control, but Edward is crawling under his skin like no else before. He can see the hazel eyes drop to his crotch, darkening even further if possible. Edward bites his lips, before looking up again at Thompson, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

His whole attitude is screaming _Fuck me, fuck me, please wreck me until I cannot even remember my own name_ and God, Thompson wishes he could. Maybe later, he thinks, distantly. He hopes maybe later. 

He raises his left hand, rope tight in his closed fist, the acting leash a red streak from Edward’s neck to Thompson’s hand. There’s a shiver in the audience, some people recognizing the move he often performs, a favorite. Edward looks at him curiously, swaying with every breath he takes. Thompson joins his right hand next to the left, curling his fingers around the silky linen rope. 

He pulls, making Edward arches back into him, gasping, before his right hand slides down the length of the rope, pressing onto the back of Edward’s neck and pushing down, down, down. 

“There you go, baby. So pretty for me. Yes, that’s it.” He purrs, and Edward folds, leans forward willingly, bends his head until his forehead touches the ground between his spread knees. He’s flexible, Thompson notes, watching with delight as Edward moans under him. There’s no hiding he’s fully hard as well now, the tight material of his slack leaving little to the imagination. But while far from vain, Thompson knows the effect he has on people, and he’s very aware how the tented zipper of his pants is a mouth watering sight to many, especially given his size is nothing to sneeze at. He allows himself to feel a little pride about that.

“How do you feel, Edward ?” he asks, grinning. Edward moans louder, and Thompson laughs warmly, along with some people in the audience. 

“Sooo gooooood.“ Edward slurs, hips twitching the best they can from inside their binding and the tight position. Thompson feels the back of his neck heats. His whole skin feels alight, burning with the arousal Edward ignites in him. He’s still half kneeling behind Edward, who is now entirely folded in half, bound and at Thompson’s mercy. Edward turns his head, pressing his heated cheek into the cool ground, and his eyes fall onto Thompson’s crotch. Thompson looks on as they widen, shamelessly staring at the bulge here, his lips moving in a silent swear as he takes in what he can make of the hidden girth. Thompson brushes his fingers through Edward’s hair, gaining his attention. 

“You want me, pet ? Want it ?” he teases, only half joking. He’s taken by surprise when Edward nods as best as he can, scrambling over his own word in his haste to answer. 

“So- So bad, sir, I want you, want it, so bad, so fucking bad.” He pants. Thompson shivers. _Holy shit_. He looks up quickly, his eyes catching Esmée’s. She’s looking at them with hooded eyelids, a smirk pulling at her lips. She gives a nod, jerking her chin toward the rest of the room. Thompson follows her direction and he glances quickly over the room. He first catches sight of Todd, clearly worked up, red in the face and pressing his thighs together, hands stuck between them, wrists pressing against his crotch. He’s not the only one in obvious arousal, Thompson remarks. Several other people are sitting in ways it makes clear they’re in the same state as Todd, and Thompson feels an electric current pierce him. People are _turned on_ by them. An array of pink faces are staring at Edward, or him, and he’s pretty sure he can hear at least two people panting. 

He gives the audience his best dom smile, a slow spread of teeth and a carnal display of hunger, and he can feel the delighted shudder in front of him. Someone squeals happily. 

“Dear Kinkster, I hope you all can forgive me for what I’m about to go, my fellow doms and dommes will understand me, I’m sure.”

And with that, his foot that was propped up scraps off the floor, bringing him fully to his knees behind Edward. He pulls up on the rope, and presses his free hand on the small of Edward’s back, right under his bound hands, pulling a squeak from him. 

He rolls his hips, only once, but long and slow, into the curve of the brunet’s rear, pressing his erect cock against the crack of his ass. He huffs, reigning in the groan that threatens to leave his throat. 

Someone in the public hums like they just bite into a particularly good meal. 

Edward honest to God mewls, loud, so very loud, short and sweet like honey. His hips make an aborted shove backward in an attempt to get more of the bulge he can feel there, and his back arches in clear submission. 

Thompson’s mouth falls open, taking in a sharp breath. He feels like he’s going to combust. 

He stands so fast one of his knees actually crack. The rope comes up with him, pulling Edward up with it, back from his prone position on the floor, back on his knees and back straight. 

Thompson stands behind him, surveying as Edward sways again, panting loudly, face tilted back to keep his eyes on the dom’s face, the top of his head brushing against Thompson’s crotch. Thompson reaches down, cups with his free hand Edward’s jaw and neck, keeping his face upward, boring their eyes into each other. Edward looks so gone by now he looks close to be actually drooling. 

“Still feeling good, beautiful ? Can you give me a color ?”

“Green, v-very green.” Edward stutters, words low and jumbled. God, that man. Thompson wants to do many, _many_ things to him. 

“Perfect, so good for me. Isn’t he so good ?” he asks the people in the audience, and there’s a collective sound of agreement, honestly closer to a groan than anything else. Edward glows with pride.

“Alright, one last act for our public, okay kitten ?”

“Anything.” Edward purrs, and Thompson feels a throb in his cock. He lowers his face to Edward’s, bending at the waist doing so. 

“Give me a color, sweet thing, if I were to kiss you ?” he murmurs, low enough probably only a couple of people at the front of the tables can hear them. It’s a gamble, a lot of people don’t like bringing kissing in scenes with strangers, but Thompson’s a player with a good poker face, and his bets are usually right. It would take an idiot not to see the alchemy between the two of them, and the effect they have on their audience. 

Edward gulps, eyes widening. His mouth opens and closes a couple times as his cheeks become even redder, which Thompson didn’t think possible. 

For a second, he thinks he might have been wrong, and he’s getting ready to retract his offer. But, once again, Edward surprises him in the best of ways. 

“Green. _Please_. Green.” He breathes, and Thompson gives him a slow grin, widening as he feels the shudders passing through the body under his. 

He closes the gap and Edward keens, pushing his tongue up in Thompson’s mouth. The blond only squeezes warningly the man’s jaw, reminding him who’s in charge, and he rewards him with a gentle pull on his lip as Edward gives in, whimpering as Thompson makes out with him. Thompson rewards him with a gentle caress down the column of his throat, before cupping it lightly and squeezing gently. Edward lets out a happy sob in his mouth.

The public erupts in applause and hollers. 

Thompson straightens, licking his lips and looking down at the man kneeling at his feet. Edward looks absolutely ravaged, eyes more hazy than ever and mouth still hanging open, lips wet and shiny with spit. Thompson smirks. He looks up to the public, bowing slightly. 

“Thank you for your attention, everyone. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be looking after our dear willing guest, Edward. Give him a round, people.”

More enthusiast clapping, along with a couple whistles, and Edward grins dopily, clearly aware of the positive attention he’s receiving. 

Some people start to rise and leave, a good handful of them moving to scene rooms or private rooms while some others stay put to chat about the scene that just occured, the chatter providing a nice background noise as Thompson gets ready to provide aftercare for Edward. He unties him with meticulous care, checking along the brunet’s skin for any chafing or bruises. Rubbing circulation back into his veins as he goes as he lets the rope fall to the ground in a whisper, he asks:

“How do you feel, Edward ? Still with me ?”

“Soooo good.” Slurs Edward, grinning. He sways on his feet when Thompson helps him up and stumbles a little, the blond catching him before he crashes off the stage. 

“You sure you’re good ?” Thompson asks, looking with a frown how the man’s eyes are still unfocused and his eyelids droopy. 

“I’m good, promise. Not my first time.” Edward mumbles, closing his eyes. “Subspace. Feels nice. Want to cuddle.”

Thompson chuckles, relieved as he pieces things together. 

“I don’t think I ever saw anyone so deep in after such little rope play.” he hums, finishing to untie Edward and gathering the rope once more in a tight knot to store it properly. He still keeps one hand on Edward, stabilizing him.

“I _really_ love it.” says Edward dreamily with a dopey grin. Thompson smiles. 

“Let me just put this away and I’ll take care of you, alright ?” he says just as Esmée comes to them, looking up from downstage.

“All good ?” she inquires, grin sharp as ever and eyes bright.

“‘m good.”nods Edward, and Thompson motions to him with the bundle of cord he’s still holding. 

“Can you help him down the stage and go sit him in one of the quiet rooms while I clean up ? He’s deep under.”

Esmée steps up the stage in one fluid movement, waving her hand. 

“I’ll clean up, don’t worry about it. Go take care of him. Thanks for the amazing show as always, Sheriff.”

“Anytime.” he graciously answers, passing the rope to her and turning to the brown haired man, who seems keen on keeping his eyes on Thompson at all times, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“Alright, pretty boy, let’s go get you back on your feet.” Thompson chuckles, helping Edward down the steps.

He navigates him through the club with a hand on the small of his back, waving to a couple people as they go. They reach the resting area situated at the far back of the club, down several corridors and separated from the main area with heavy red blackout curtains. Thompson pulls the curtain open and closed behind them, keeping his palm flat on Edward’s back.

***

The quiet rooms are, as their names indicate, little private rooms cozily furnished for anyone who would seek some time to recenter themselves or cool down. They align down a hall lit by fake candles, each door holding a sign saying either " _free_ " or " _occupied_ ". Another sign, placed at the very entryway of the corridor, asks the patrons to respect the quiet of the space and to be mindful.

Thompson guides Edward to the first open door, turning the sign on it to its occupied side, before closing the door behind them. This room is decorated in purple and soft pink shades, fairy lights tacked to the walls and ceiling projecting a nice and cozy glowing ambiance. There’s a sofa and a couple love seats, a thick carpet and a mini fridge with drinks and snacks. On the far wall, a phone to call reception if anything was to be needed. One of the reasons Thompson made The Holy Lamb his favorite club is how well the customers are pampered and treated. He likes to provide good, comfortable aftercare to his subs and the setting to do just that lack in most clubs.

Edward hums, turning to Thompson, who indicates the plush sofa as he pushes gently Edward toward it. 

“Sit down, Edward, I’ll fix you some water, alright ?”

Edward sits, immediately sinking in the cushions. He hums again, longer, before giggling a little as Thompson goes to the mini fridge situated in the corner of the room to retrieve some water. He uncaps a brand new bottle and sits next to his companion. 

“What’s so funny ?” He asks gently, helping Edward to drink by raising the bottle to his lips, watching intently as the dark haired man drinks greedily long mouthful of water. 

“Nothing, just.” Edward shakes his head as he stops drinking. “I didn’t expect to find, huh…” He trails off, his eyes roaming Thompson’s form next to him, clearly enjoying what he was seeing.

“Find someone like you tonight, I suppose.” He finishes, words a little crunched together at the end of his sentence as he closes his eyes and relaxes once more. 

“I see.” Thompson chuckles, before raising the bottle again. “Drink some more, sweetheart, then I’ll drive you home.”

Edward frowns, eyes still closed. “Nnnh, I wanted to have some more fun, though…” He whines, and Thompson quirks an eyebrow, even though Edward can’t see him. After a couple seconds, Edward sighs, re-opening his eyes. He looks less deep under than before, but still a little hazy. 

“You’re right, I should go home, and I’m in no condition to drive. I’m sorry.” he winces, rubbing his eyes. Thompson frowns. He doesn’t like subs sobering too quickly. 

“That’s okay, cutie. You’re not the first I drive home after an intense session and you won’t be the last.” he reassures Edward, offering the bottle again. Edward takes it in his hand this time, and drinks from it some more before nodding. 

“That’s very kind of you, actually. Not a lot of dom go that extra mile.” he points out, rubbing the bridge of his nose like you’d do to soothe a headache.

Thompson shrugs easily, leaning back and crossing his legs at the ankles. 

“I like to make sure my partners are safe, I guess. Also, Esmée would have my throat if I were to let you out in this state.” he jokes, only not really. Esmée can be terrifying when she's displeased with her patrons. More than once before she banned toxic doms and subs from her establishment. 

Edward smiles at him, eyes slightly squinted, and Thompson notices he has a dimple in his left cheek. Once again, he thinks how Edward is really, really pretty. 

“Also, not a whole lot of subs needs to be driven home after a simple karada harness, you know.” He grins, and Edward flushes, ducking his chin in the collar of his shirt. 

“Shut it, mister.” he snorts, wiggling a little on his seat. Thompson props his elbow on the back of the couch, temple in his palm, pulling one knee on the seat to properly face Edward. His smile turns flirty, voice lowering: “I wonder, how will you look if I play with you with more than just ropes…?”

Edward’s reaction is instantaneous and the most beautiful Thompson ever witnessed to his flirting, ever. His blush deepens to the point he’s bright pink, from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he looks at Thompson, lidded eyes dark and wanting, before pulling his lower lip between his teeth, biting it slowly. He breathes out, low and with a note of whine : “ _God_ , I would like to know, too…”

They make eye contact for a long time, something electric passing between them. Edward licks his lips, slowly, and relishes in the way Thompson’s eyes are clearly following the movement. The brunet squirms, smiling in a way he hopes is seductive in his state of fuzziness. Thompson looks back at him, the corner of his lips tugging up. 

“None of that, kitten. I'm taking you home and that’s final.” he purrs, and Edward mocks groans, thumping his head on the backrest in surrender. 

“Alright. I’m feeling less fuzzy, now. Should we go ?”

“You tell me. Are you good ? Do you need anything else ? You mentioned cuddling, do you want some of that ?” inquires Thompson, making sure Edwards understands the offer’s on the table but not mandatory.

Edward shakes his head, taking a long pull from the bottle again before answering. “I do like cuddling after a scene, but I’m good now. I’m deep in but not too shaken. Maybe next time ?” He says, clearly hopeful, and Thompson laughs while pushing on his knees to stand up. 

“Next time sounds good.” He nods, and Edward beams. 

***

Edward’s coat is a grey wool peacoat, and he looks immensely cute as he burrows inside it in the lobby, huffing like a dog who finally settled on its bed after turning five times on itself. 

Esmée is looking at Thompson who’s looking at Edward, and when he looks back to her, she’s grinning so widely it exposes both the top and bottom rows of her teeth. He rolls his eyes while shrugging into his own dark wool ulster coat, deciding to ignore her for now, but he knows he won’t avoid the questioning next time he comes around. She’s too keen and nosy for that. She knows something is up about those two. 

The November night is cold once they’re out after bidding their goodbyes. It’s not that late, but enough that most of the side streets are empty by now, only leaving the ones with the pubs and late night shops still bustling with people, especially in Camden. Thankfully, Thompson took the subway that day to go to work and then to the club instead of his bike, so he’s not worried about coming back to get it later. He follows Edward’s instruction on where to find his car, guiding him once more with a hand on his back as the brunet sometimes sways hard on his feet. He still giggles sometimes, and Thompson finds him endearing enough he doesn’t find it annoying. 

Edward’s car is a sleek black number, fancy and elegant, enough to make Thompson whistles.

“Nice ride, man.” He laughs, and Edward nods, fishing the keys from the messenger bag slung on his shoulder. He hands them to Thompson, clearly proud of his car.

“Bought it as a celebration for my new job.” He grins, before making a happy noise in the back of his throat when Thompson opens his door for him. 

“Thank you, my knight in shining armor~” He cooes, and Thompson snorts, slamming the door shut and circling the vehicle to get inside himself.

Edward keeps dozing off on the ride home, head pushed against the cold glass of his car’s window. Thompson keeps an eye on him, just in case, but the brunet seems content just waiting in a state of half slumber until they arrive, eyes closed and a small smile playing on his lips. The giggling quieted down, leaving the radio to fill the air. It’s companionable though, the silence comfortable. Thompson’s arousal died a long time ago, leaving only a slight buzzing running under his skin. He’s content with his evening though. He got to play with a beautiful new sub, and got the promise they’ll do more if the occasion rises. He’s honestly ready to head home and hit the sack. The tension of the day melted away as he was untying Edward, the act allowing him to focus on mechanical muscle memory and the concentration of staying in the right mindset.

When the GPS indicates they reached their destination, Thompson pulls in front of a nice condominium building in Bloomsbury. He whistles again, lowly, brows raised. He doesn’t know what job Edward does, but clearly he’s well off in life. While the building isn’t one of the fanciest in the neighborhood, it’s definitely up there, modern and elegant, a high contrast with the usual white french architecture style you’d find around those streets. Turning to his companion, he catches him smiling dopily at him. He can’t help a small smile in return, feeling his face softening. 

“We’re here.” he murmurs, like he was trying not to spook a sleepy cat. Which, honestly. He sort of is.

“I see that. Is my knight going to open the door for me again ?” Edward teases, voice muddled with sleep, and Thompson’s smile turns into a smirk. 

“Only if you ask prettily, kitten.” he drawls, one brow raised and eyes narrowing. It doesn’t miss. 

Edward moans in anguish, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, please, stop. Or else I won’t be able to control myself.”

Chuckling, Thompson gets out, before indeed going to open Edward’s door. The brunet shoots him a half heartedly glare before getting out of the car, stumbling a little and catching himself on Thompson’s arm.

In the elevator, Edward pushes himself against Thompson, humming low, nuzzling into the blond’s shoulder with a content sigh. Thompson smiles and raises a brow at him, making him flush some more. 

“Sorry, I’m not… That forward, usually, but I really liked our time together at the club. Like. Really liked it. I…”

There’s a beat, only filled with the whirring of the elevator, as Thompson patiently lets Edward gather his words, eyelashes fluttering as he centers himself, still a little unfocused on the edges.

“…I would offer you to come in, to be honest, but, I start my new job tomorrow, so, huh…”

“No worries.” drawls Thompson, “It wouldn’t be reasonable for me either, big day tomorrow at work as well. But I really enjoyed tonight as well. It was great, sweetheart.” He sets a hand on Edward’s hip, squeezing lightly. 

Edward grins up at him. 

“It really was, wasn’t it? God. Loved it.” he giggles again, and Thompson smile widens. He’s adorable when he’s floating in subspace.

The elevator finally comes to a stop, and they step out in a nice enough but rather nondescript beige corridor. Edward stumbles a little again, and Thompson snakes an arm around his middle to stabilize him. Edward hums, foraging deep in his messenger bag to retrieve his keys as he stops in front of a door bearing the number 221. 

After a couple tries which end up with the keys on the floor, Thompson gently puts a hand on Edward’s. 

“Let me.” he chuckles, and Edward huffs. 

“Sorry, I’m. You really put me under, god.” He groans, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eyes.

Thompson laughs as he unlocks the door, pushing it open to let Edward in first, handing him his keys back. 

“There you go,” he chuckles, before adding, deliberately : “ _Kitten_.”

Edward stiffens and wipes around, cheeks red. 

“Please don’t, I’m trying really hard not to pull you in right now and drag you to my bedroom.” He groans again, and Thompson bites the inside of his lower lip.

“Is that so ?” he purrs, pushing his hands deep into his coat’s pockets and leaning on the frame of the door, looking Edward up and down. Behind him, he can dimly discern in the dark a tv stand, a couch, and an open kitchen. Edward groans, swatting at his arm. 

“Don’t, stop, no. I’m serious.” He whines, crossing his arms and pouting at the taller man.

“Alright, sorry, sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Do you need anything else?” Thompson laughs, straightening and looking down at Edward with a warm half smile. 

It’s Edward’s turn to lean on the frame of his door, grinning dreamily.

“For right now? No, I’m good. I’ll think of a couple of things for next time though. Thank you for driving me, Thompson. Thank you for the wonderful scene, too.”

“No problem. It was my pleasure, really.” Thompson answers easily with a shrug of his right shoulder. They stare at each other for a couple seconds more, Edward flushed and so pretty in his rumpled shirt, mussed hair and grey peacoat, Thompson smart and clean in his work shirt and slack, the long line of his own coat sculpting him a stark silhouette against the light color of the walls. 

Edward seems to blink back into existence, and shakes his head. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you soon at the club, maybe ?”

“Definitively.” Thompson nods.

Edward hums again, nearly purring with content. 

“Perfect. Have a nice night, Thompson.”

“Same to you. Take care.” Thompson smiles, only the corner of his lips lifting, and Edward bites his lips as he pushes the door closed, waving one last time at the other man. 

***

It’s only once Thompson is back outside, in a cab toward his place and already halfway there that he thinks that he really should have left his number to Edward. 

_God_ , he’s an _idiot_. 

***

The morning after, Thompson blinks awake before his alarm even goes off. He feels way more refreshed than he probably should, given the late hour at which he went to bed, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why. Good, fulfilling scenes always had this rejuvenating effect on him, and he’d be damned if what happened at the club the night before hadn’t been one of the best scenes he had the pleasure to perform. 

Humming to himself, he goes through his morning routine mostly thinking about Edward. He still cringes at himself when he remembers how stupid he was for not leaving the brunet with his number. 

He can’t help but jack off in the shower, forehead pressed to the warm tile, the spray running down his back and neck in rivulets as he’s panting, images of Edward, on his back, on all fours, on his stomach, fuck, even against a wall, or on Thompson’s kitchen counter…

He comes in his fist with a bitten off shout.

After shower and breakfast, Thompson is buttoning his shirt up and tucking it into his slacks as his phone rings with a text notification. The screen indicates: **_Matthew (Work)_** and there’s a bunch of exclamation marks under the name. Thompson opens the text as he's sliding on his coat and pocketing his badge and bike keys, but it barely says anything else, just a long line of exclamation marks followed by a **_Where r u??_**

He chuckles, tapping at the screen as he locks his door and makes toward the stairs of his small three story high building. 

**_Omw. Calm down. It’s only a new partner._ **he replies, clipping his detective badge at his belt before straddling his bike.

***

Matthew, a tall ginger with a weird taste in ties, and a good friend of Thompson since they began working the same day, is standing by Thompson’s desk when he arrives at the precinct. He looks positively bouncy this morning, shifting his weight from the ball of his feet to his heels, and he’s grinning. 

“He’s already here! He’s in the captain’s office. Hwangboon asked you to come as soon as you were set.” He claps his hands, and Thompson makes a sound of acknowledgement, setting his bag down on his desk. The one across from him has been empty for a couple months now, left behind by his previous partner, freshly retired from the force. 

Taking off his coat and rolling his sleeves, Thompson looks at his friend who’s staring at him with a smirk, leaning forward above Thompson’s desk. 

“You look like you’re more excited about this than I am.” Thompson notes, snorting. 

“He’s very cute, Ridge. Just your type, if I do say so myself.” Matthew grins, wiggling his eyebrows. Thompson rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, whatever you say.” he huffs, before unlocking the safe in his desk and shouldering the holster that was within.

“I’m serious!” Matthew straightens. “Just go see for yourself.”

”I am, I am, alright ? Chill, Mattie.” Thompson raises his hands in surrender, before patting himself down, checking nothing was out of place in his appearance.

“‘Kay, I’m off. See you.” he says, waving to Matthew and walking to the door leading to the Captain’s office.

He knocks twice before opening it, poking his head in. 

“You asked for me, Captain ?”

Captain Seo-Young Hwangboon, a woman with long dark hair gathered in a messy low bun, looks up to him before waving him inside

“Yes, thank you, Thompson. Come in. Meet your new partner, Gold.” she says, gesturing to the man sitting in front of her.

Here in one of the captain’s chairs, in a glorious neatly pressed grey three piece suit and a dark green shirt, shiny office shoes and a black tie, is sitting Edward.

 _Fuck_ , Thompson thinks, _he’s even prettier than last night._

***

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked. <3 
> 
> Find me at instagram.com/oxyart58/ where I post a lot of Eddsworld in general and a lot of Thompson and Edward!


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